


Your Choice

by InquisitorAllandra



Series: Taleal Mahariel, Grey Warden [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, landsmeet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 23:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11884809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InquisitorAllandra/pseuds/InquisitorAllandra
Summary: Taleal Mahariel is at the Landsmeet, knowing that decisions made today will shake the world. (DA:Origins, F!Mahariel / Alistair)





	Your Choice

Your Choice  
~InquisitorAllandra

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age. Dragon Age is property of Bioware. Taleal is mine.

\-------------------------------------

Green eyes flashed in the dim lighting of the Landsmeet as the elf drew her back her blade, the deep red lifeblood of the man she had hated since Ostagar dripping to stone and carpet. The body before her released a last, single sigh as Loghain’s body fell.  
  
Justice had been served, for better or for worse. Anora and Rhiordan had argued for him trying the Joining. Alistair called for justice, and Taleal stood with him in that.  
  
Even her clan had heard of the hero of River Dane – when Loghain simply requested that she make it quick, she granted him that. If not for his sake, then for the sake of the people, and Anora.  
  
It was a moment of truth – fates rested on the decision that would be made here this day. All the eyes of the Landsmeet were on her -- Banns, Arls, her companions... Anora, Alistair. One looked on with a cool calm, the other with love and trust and fear in their eyes.  
  
She was a Dalish Elf. A huntress. Who was she to decide the fate of a nation? Of nations? Surely this one decision, like so many other's she's made lately, would have ripple effects that would go beyond this room and Ferelden.  
  
"Warden? What is your decision?" Arl Eamon's eyes were confident, sure she would make the decision he had wanted, that they had discussed at length.

  


\----------------------------------------

  


"Alistair has to be king, Warden. I need you to understand this." Eamon paced the library of his Denerim home, once again listing off the reasons he was so adamant that Alistair be chosen to take the throne.  
  
"He does not want it, Eamon - why would you force a man to lead when he has no desire to?"  
  
"It is his birthright!" Eamon growled, a scowl tugging at his lips. "And once he is king a suitable wife of noble birth will be found to be his queen."  
  
Taleal tilted her head, strands of dark hair falling across her face - she told herself it wasn't to try to hide the burning at her ears and face.   
  
"How so? You have said yourself, he was born a bastard. He was not raised to lead -you left him to your mabari or whoever would see to him, and then you- you sent him to the Chantry to be a templar. To learn to follow, not to lead. Even our Keepers undergo years of training to learn to lead, but first they must have the desire to lead and protect the clan. Even after that, they are tested to be sure that they are fit for such a role. You cannot force it." The elf paused before continuing. "As I understand it, and see it, Anora is fit to rule. She is capable, and wants to do right by the people of Ferelden. The people already know and love her. It makes no sense to cause MORE chaos by changing rulers in the middle of a Blight because you do not agree with the bloodline who sired her."  
  
She could see Eamon was growing both weary and agitated. She could feel her own agitation bubbling up as well -- why were humans, especially noble ones, so caught up in the idea of bloodlines? Bloodlines were history, ancestry. Important, yes, in tracking one’s heritage. They did not dictate that just because your ancestor was someone great, that you would be as well. There was always the hope, of course, but that’s all it was – hope.  
  
Drawing herself up to stand straight, Taleal took in a slow, deep breath before speaking again.  
  
"You seem to forget that Alistair is a Grey Warden - we are not supposed to get so involved in politics. We are already stepping over our boundaries by being tied up in this civil war as it is. I will not tell or order or demand Alistair take the throne, Eamon. It will be his decision -- and if he does not want it, I will stand with him in that decision. I will vote that Anora keep the throne. If Alistair does decide he wants to be king...." By some miracle of the creators she managed not to flinch, "then I will stand by him in that decision as well. That is my final say on the matter before the Landsmeet, Eamon. "  
  
Eamon scowled, and took a few quick strides to cross the room to tower over the Dalish Warden. “You listen to me, and you listen well. He may have this dalliance with you, and fancy that he has feelings for you, but once he realizes he has a duty to something greater than himself, he will do what is necessary. A Therin must be the one to sit on the throne. Ferelden will have no other.”  
  
Now it was Taleal’s turn to scowl. She could not make herself physically taller, but she could seem decently threatening when she wanted to. “YOU listen to ME, you shem---”  
  
A sound from the doorway – an awkward clearing of the throat – cut her off, and drew the attention of both Eamon and Taleal. Alistair’s gaze darted between the two, confusion and concern in his features. “I…should I come back later?”  
  
Eamon straightened, stepping away from Taleal. “Not at all, Alistair, come on in. The Warden and I were just finishing up, weren’t we?”  
  
Taleal sneered, turning on her heel to leave the room, elvish curses barely heard under her breath. She only barely caught Alistair's confused yet surprised expression as she passed him. Taleal did not stop when Alistair called after her, quickening her pace.  
  
The last thing she wanted to do right now was to explain why she was near to shouting with his uncle. Quickly, she climbed the stairs, going up and up and up, past the bedrooms and storage spaces, till she came to a hatch. The elf had found the hatch to the roof quite by accident one night when exploring the castle.  
Up and out she went, the wind stinging at her face and singing in her ears. The dull echoes of the city beyond the gate came with the whispers of the wind -- the last cries of vendors shouting their wares before closing for the night, shoppers shouting counter-offers, the delighted laughter of children playing in the streets that nearly drowned up parents calling them in for dinner.  
  
With the care of one who was used to navigating sitting in trees after a climb, Taleal found a perch that would not send her hurtling to the ground. Her knees drew up to create a rest for her chin, arms wrapping around her legs as green eyes gazed out over the overcrowded capital. Perhaps, she thought, I should have gone down to the alienage instead.  
  
The thought of the alienage made her cringe -- she could not see how any would suffer themselves to live in such squalor, just as she could not understand how they could all stand being crammed in this city. Taleal longed to flee the whole thing, to be rid of the stone walls and the guards and the small spaces. How could anyone breathe here? Cramped and tight and no space to think ---  
  
"Might I join you?" The sweet lilting voice interrupted the warden's thoughts, causing Taleal to jump and turn sharply before her gaze fell on Leliana. "I am sorry, I did not mean to frighten you--"  
  
"It’s all right. Please, sit. You just surprised me is all." Taleal fell silent as the red head settled herself in.  
  
"Are you all right? I heard some of the servants saying you were arguing with Eamon again."  
  
Taleal winced then, nodding slightly. "I suppose you could call it that."  
  
"Was it about Alistair?"  
  
Taleal smirked slightly, eyeing Leliana from the corner of her eye. "Whatever would give you that idea, dear Leliana?”  
  
The redheaded human laughed lightly in response. “Because it is the only reason he will speak with you.” She fell silent for a moment, gazing out to watch the sun setting over the city, bathing everything in red. “What are you going to do?”  
  
“What should I do?”  
  
“What your faith tells you is right.”  
  
“I do not believe in your Maker, Leliana.”  
  
“No, but you have faith, regardless, my dearest friend. If not that, you have a mind, and a heart. If you cannot listen to yourself, then simply…listen. You will find the answer. I believe you will.”  
  
“Thank you, Leliana.”  
  
There was silence again as Leliana curled an arm around the small elf-Warden in a hug. Taleal leaned in, shoulders slumping as she let out an exhausted breath.  
“He does not want to be king. He does not want to lead – Alistair does not believe himself – does not believe IN himself, choosing to put his faith in others. He was not given the encouragement for such things he would have received had he been raised as Cailan had. I believe the Maker gave him the potential to lead, but he needs someone who can…guide him to believe in himself enough to lead others.”  
  
A frown formed again on the elf’s lips. She started to part them to speak before Leliana silenced her with a smile.  
  
“However,” the redhead tapped Taleal’s nose lightly with the tip of her finger, “I do not think kingship would suit Alistair.” She shrugs, starting to stand. “I suppose it is not for me to say, but the Maker. I believe, though, that you will make the right decision for all.”  
  
Taleal accepted the hand that Leliana offered, and stood with her friends help. “Thank you, Leli. I will…think on it.”  
  
“As you should. But for now, perhaps we should head down to supper?”

\--------------------------------------------------

Alistair nudged the heavy oaken door open as quietly as he could, peeking his head into Taleal’s room – well, it was their room in all but formality (Eamon had had a fit, insisting it was not proper for the future king to share his room with an elf. A Dalish elf, at that.) The ex-templar leaned against the doorframe, a goofy, lopsided smile tugging at his lips as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, taking a moment to savor the scene in front of him.  
  
The elf in question sat before the fireplace, a warm fire crackling within, giving the room a soft light. To either side of her were her furry companions – the wolf, Shardani, and the oversized pup-mabari, Kelesann; both were curled on the rug, dozing.  
  
His heart’s desire had not yet noticed him, it seemed – from where he stood, her back was fully to him, so he could not tell if his elvhen lover was merely staring into the fire or working on something. It gave Alistair a moment to appreciate her out of armor – while her armor did not make her look a giant (she barely came up to his shoulder as it was), she looked even smaller in a simple nightshirt. With the dramatic shadows from the flames, her black hair took on even darker tones, what little light the strands did catch looked almost silver in reflection. Alistair’s heart swelled at the thought and sight of his lady love.  
  
“Do you plan to stand there all night, ma vhenan, or are you going to come in?” Her voice held amusement that barely covered up her distraction as the question broke the silence. Alistair noticed at last that she had turned towards him, and he had to catch himself from jumping at the way her eyes reflected the light in that cat-like way.  
  
It was a few easy steps that brought Alistair across the room and folding himself down to sit next to Taleal. “I couldn’t help it – you looked far to pretty to disturb from where I was standing. Besides, I didn’t want to interrupt you if you were busy.” Sitting next to her now, it broke his heart to see the sad, downtrodden look in her eyes, and the exhaustion in every other feature of her body. Bags shadowed her eyes, a frown tugged her dainty lips downward. He frowned, eyebrows knitting together as Alistair pulled Taleal into his lap, fingers grazing her cheek.  
  
“What is it?” Hoping to help his companion relaxed, Alistair nuzzled against her neck, arms enveloping her in a hug that pressed Taleal’s back to his chest.  
Taleal’s ears flicked back, pinning down as low as they could go – she was nervous, he could tell. A deep sigh escaped her as her shoulders sagged, head slumping against the human’s shoulder. “The Landsmeet. The Archdemon. Your Uncle. I’m— “there was the tiniest of sobs. “I’m tired, Alistair. I just --- your uncle wants you to be king, Anora wants to still be Queen--- “the babbling words were broken up by sobs that suddenly overtook the usually strong, stubborn elf. She turned, curling into and against Alistair as far as she could, tears streaming down her face, soaking his shirt.  
  
He knew what a stress it was on her, all these decisions. Alistair wrapped his arms tightly around Tally, muttering and murmuring to her in love and comfort. A hand played with her hair till he found the back of her slender neck, fingers massaging the tense muscles to help her relax. “My dear – please, no, don’t cry. Sshhh…” he felt at a loss, and knew Shardani and Kelesann felt it too. Both animals had awoken at the sound of their mistress’s distress, tails wagging worriedly.  
  
“Tally, love. It’s okay. I’m—“  
  
“Oh, he insists you should be king and find some simpering little lady to have your babies because the KINGDOM just HAS to have a THEIRIN ruling!” She cried out, nearly snapping. It wasn’t in Taleal to wail in woe. “Never mind how he raised you, or what you want, or that the people are just fine with Anora!”  
Alistair pursed his lips, eyes closing a moment as she ranted. “I’m sorry. I should’ve – I shouldn’t have told you, or I shouldn’t have said anything about not wanting to be king. I…” He paused, trying to find the words. “I didn’t want to be this kind of a bother to you, love. I really didn‘t.”  
  
The sobs had subsided as he spoke. Alistair thought for a moment that perhaps she had fallen asleep; her smaller body shifting against his told him that she hadn’t. Her voice was soft, muffled by her face buried in the cloth of his shirt.  
  
“You’re not a bother, vhenan. Never you. I just. I had a moment where it all felt like it was too much.” She tilted her head back, eyes bright as they reflected the fire, “I want to do right. By you, Ferelden, my People…” She let out a soft sigh, reaching up to play with a bit of his hair. “I meant what I told your uncle – I will not force you to sit up there in that ridiculous chair and fill a role you will resent. Unless….,” Taleal’s brows knit together, “unless you want to…?”  
  
Alistair had taken to playing with the long dark locks of her hair that fell to the floor, adjusting his embrace around the petite elf as she moved in his lap. “I – no. No, I really, truly do not want to be king. I wouldn’t know where to begin, or what to do – and besides.” He held Tally a bit tighter, sucking in a breath. “I wouldn’t want to trade you for a crown and kingdom.”  
  
“But—”  
  
“But I’d rather be a Warden with you for whatever time we have left than to be a king and watch you walk out those doors and probably never see you again once this Blight is done.” He watched as Tally’s eyes widened, blinking in surprise at his tone. Alistair could be serious, when he wanted to be, sometimes when he needed to be. It seemed that this was one of those moments.  
  
It seemed an age as they sat there, frozen where they were, searching for something in each other’s eyes. Neither spoke a word; the moment finally breaking when Taleal stretches up just enough to press her lips tenderly to Alistair’s. He responded by pulling her closer, leaning down towards her.  
  
“All right,” she murmured as Alistair pulled away, “no crowns for you.”

  


\-------------------

 

This was it.  
  
Every eye in the room was on her. Anora’s, Eamon’s, the Bannorn, Alistair’s…  
  
“Anora should remain Queen.”  
  
Alistair’s face lit with relief from where he stood next to her; Anora smiled regally and dipped her head. Eamon looked something like a red tree-fruit. Those of the Bannorn erupted into talk.  
  
And that was that. Taleal heard someone declare it should be so; Anora exclaimed something about needing some oath or other from Alistair.  
  
All the talking buzzed through Taleal’s ears like swarms of bees. Just like that, it was finished.  
  
Now they could turn their attention back to the Blight and the Archdemon.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
